


Battle Scars

by literalcat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Self-Harm, basically vent angst that became kagehina fluff i guess, it's really heavily described so im sorry, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 13:31:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7465245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literalcat/pseuds/literalcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Battle Scars

**Author's Note:**

> so. this is really kind of dark and dreary at the start. it describes self-harming in graphic detail, so please be careful if youre triggered by that.  
> this started as a venting thing i wrote a while ago and never intended to publish, but i figured i should at least try to turn it into something positive and finish writing it. so!! it has a good ending, i promise, it's just that the start is pretty graphic.  
> only read if youre capable of doing so. please be safe!!

“I’m- I’m going to have a shower,” Hinata said, closing the bathroom door and locking it. “Don’t try to come in!”

He tuned on the hot water, and undressed himself, sliding to the bottom of the little cubicle in despair. It had not been a good day. It hadn’t been a good day in a long time, but today was worse. He’d been yelled at by two people, missed a toss, and had broken a glass, too. It was as if that last, little thing had shattered his remaining strength entirely.

Even volleyball was beginning to lose its fun lately. He told himself it was stupid that he was starting to dislike volleyball, told himself it would pass, told himself it would be fine. But he didn’t really feel it would pass; nor did he feel upset over it. He just felt… numb. Like there was a strange ache in his chest- or a hole. He didn’t know how to fill it, and the longer it was left unfilled, the more he forgot how to feel.

He wondered why. He wondered what would make him feel less numb, less emotionless, and his eyes settled on a razor. It sat modestly, harmlessly, on the shower floor.

 _No_ , he told himself, tearing his eyes away from it. _No, Shouyou. That’s never the solution._

But…Then again… he reached for it, turning it over in his hands and pressing it lightly against his arm. His heart began to pound. Loudly. Louder. Faster. So loud and quick he felt his heart might explode. He slowly began to drag the blade across his skin. So close. So close. A thick, syrupy anticipation rose in his chest, mingled with excitement and raw terror.

And then quickly, impulsively, he raked it across the inside of his wrist. It burned and then ached, and he almost dropped the razor to clutch it. But something made him keep attacking his arm with its thin blades. Something about its burning, biting sting was horribly comforting. Something in him liked seeing the narrow, red lines against his skin, blood running brightly down his arm, spreading into twisting, fractal-like shapes under the water. He felt dizzy. He couldn’t stop. He started with the other arm, too, and then even his legs, his belly- but a loud, sharp knock on the bathroom door shocked him out of his reverie.

“Shouyou, dinner!”

It took him a moment to understand the words. Then shaking, head swimming, Hinata slowly made sense of them. He stood up. “C-coming!”

He put the razor where he found it and washed the blood away, making sure none of it was left on the floor. Turning the shower off, he wrapped himself in a towel and dashed to his room.

An ashamed horror began to feed its way through him. _What have I done?_

He collapsed on his bed and stared at his still-bleeding arms- he couldn’t extend them fully, they hurt so much-and went cold at the sight of his work. _Oh, no, what have I done?_

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Hinata woke up wearing the same old jacket he’d worn to dinner last night. He wondered briefly, hopefully, if what he’d done to himself was a dream. But he knew it wasn’t.

That day, Hinata did something he’d never done before. He skipped morning practise, instead hiding just outside the school with his head in his hands.

Everyone asked him about it that afternoon, but all he said was “I’m very sorry! I overslept this morning, so I was kinda late…”

He also refused to take his Karasuno jacket off, even though Sugawara insisted he’d die of the heat. Hinata’s aim- hell, his everything- was also a little off that day- he didn’t want to tell anyone it was because he had scars up and down his limbs and couldn’t move them properly. At one point, he was sure the sleeve had slipped down, and horror stabbed at his stomach, but nobody said anything. And he didn’t know it, but Suga was watching him very carefully. He muttered something to Kageyama during their drink break, but Hinata, preoccupied with the suspicion his legs had started to bleed, didn’t notice.

Fortunately, he managed to make his way through afternoon practise without anyone picking up on much; eventually- he hoped- they’d just assumed it was just another part of the peculiar Hinata canon.

The second practise was over, he bolted outside and ran around the corner, leaning against the wall and trying not to cry. Why did he do what he did? Why? It was so stupid of him. He was such an idiot. A useless, stupid idiot.

Hinata bit his lip. He started tearing up.

“Hey. What the hell’s wrong with you today?”

He looked up to see Kageyama looming over him accusingly. Realising he was crying, Hinata tried to turn away, stuttering that he was tired, but the other boy had already seen.

“Wh… Are you crying?” Hinata flinched. He practically felt Kageyama’s scepticism, fully expecting him to walk away in disgust.

Instead, when the shadow over his body shifted, Hinata turned to see him sitting down. The taller boy looked startled, to say the least, and a little bit awkward- like he didn’t quite know what to do- but he didn’t walk away.

“…Hinata.”

 _Here it comes,_ he thought. _He’s gonna tell me how useless it is to cry, how it makes me weak, how I’ve been playing badly, how I’m nothing but a—_

“Suga-san told me to talk to you, because you weren’t doing well. He was worried you were sick, or something.”

_…Huh?_

The confusion must have been obvious on his face, because Kageyama tilted his head to glare at him. “Don’t look so clueless. You haven’t been playing well for a while.” He turned back to look up at the clouds. “It sort of looks like you don’t care about it anymore. Like you couldn’t care less about the team, about practise. But that’s not it, is it, Shouyou?”

The sound of his first name, said so eerily, sent a chill down Hinata’s spine. “I… Of c-course I care about the team,” He said, cursing how weak he sounded, how frail. Ordinarily he would have exploded at Kageyama for that type of comment, but now he just felt listless. “Of course I care…” He repeated, looking away so Kageyama wouldn’t see the tears welling in his eyes again.

Hinata was vaguely aware of a shuffling sound, and then a pair of arms slowly pulling him into a hug. Warmth flooded his body, but he made no attempt to pull away, instead burying his face in Kageyama’s chest and crying. He wrapped his arms around the other boy’s torso, felt him tentatively start to stroke his hair. It was clear he had no idea how to comfort the sobbing boy, but him just being there was enough for Hinata.

They stayed like that for a long, long time- Kageyama’s heart pounding steadily against Hinata’s ear, their arms tight around each other, a tangled mess of warmth and tears and limbs.

When they finally broke apart, Hinata had stopped crying and the sky had darkened considerably. Later, Hinata would realise that the team had probably heard them and decided to just leave them be.

He stood up, shakily at first, trying to quieten his own breathing. Kageyama stood up, too, not even batting an eye at the wet patch on the front of his shirt, where Hinata had spilled out all the hurt, all the pain that had built up over the past few weeks. Hinata knew he was being treated gingerly- knew he was getting special treatment from Kageyama- but he didn’t mind. He was sort of happy to be taken care of like this.

They stood a little awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to say or do. Then, in a grateful, sudden surge of confidence he would later wonder at how he summoned, Hinata stepped closer, and, standing on his toes, pressed his lips ever-so-lightly against Kageyama’s.

Then, realising what he’d done, Hinata felt a deep red blush creep over his cheeks, and he stuttered for a moment before rushing home as fast as he could.

Kageyama stared after him, mouth slightly open, and brought a hand up to touch his lips. A warm feeling blossomed from his heart… And he allowed himself one small, selfish smile before starting on his way back home.

 

* * *

 

A few days passed before anyone mentioned anything. A week later, Kageyama confessed to Hinata under a flowering tree. And a week after that, the entire team had found out, and the gym was filled with shouts of congratulations and “FINALLY”.

All the while, Hinata was slowly regaining his energy- his happiness. It wasn’t that Kageyama magically made the sadness go away, or that love made everything better. But being taken care of, being treated with patience and care, being respected when he wanted time alone and being able to rely on someone when he needed them- that’s what helped Hinata. That’s what set him on the road to recovery.

And so, one morning, he raced in to Karasuno’s gym with a smile on his face, throwing off his jacket for the first time since that day and proudly playing with all his might.

These were his battle scars. He wasn’t afraid to show them anymore.


End file.
